Doctors + Chemists
Sunday December 21st 2008, 1:21 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


It’s Friday
And I am back at the doctors
The main reason is to get another sick note
Probably my last one
But after my most eventful medical year ever
I always have plenty of business to get through
On my last few visits
The person behind had been in for a long wait
Today’s main topic after the sick note
Was the side effects of statins
I just came straight out and told Dr K
That I was having a problem with sexual performance
And this problem appeared shortly after I started this medication
I told him that I was alright at the start
But usually half way through
I would simply switch off
He reached for one of his books
And sat there studiously
Then shook his head
“It’s probably unlikely…It’s way down the list”
I paused for a moment
“Yeah but how many are likely to turn up and point it out…
…I’ve never had the slightest problem before this…
…and it is a high dose”
“Ok” he nodded and put the book back
Then he told junior to go and wait in the waiting room
While he had a talk with dad
He took down another book
“Well which one do you want…
…I can give you a choice of three?”
I assumed he had got straight onto the subject of Viagra
I shook my head
Not having a clue
So he produced his own caption for each one
I can’t remember what the names where
The first one
“Well this one was used extensively in the porn industry…
…there were rumours of men keeping a hard on for 24 hours”
I laughed and shook my head
“Then there is this one which is popular as an ‘apre boozer’…
…good for a quickie after you fall out of the pub, slaughtered”
He laughed at that one
“This is probably what you need…
…I recently prescribed this for a friend of mine…
…he told me that it made him feel like a teenager again…
…he said he could get up in the morning…
…and carry his towel to the shower on it”
After this very frank conversation
I decided on the towel carrier and left

I headed into town on my own
Junior has decided he is going to be a film maker
And it seems that I am going to be supplying him with the camera
So I drifted towards Curry’s
To see if they had gone into a christmas panic yet
On the way I passed somebody I knew
He was on the struggling side of an argument
With a girl pushing a pram
I turned as I watched him pass
His name is Danny
He is a dog of a character
Left school at 14
To be schooled by his dad
In how to make stuff with wood
When I first moved to this town
He was a coke dealer
He would regularly snort enough to give him psychosis
I once visited his house
And as I knocked on the door
“Don’t turn around!” he hissed
From behind a wall
“I’m being watched…don’t give my position away”
“Fuck off…come back tomorrow”

In more recent times I had picked him up in the cab
And was pleased to see that he had mellowed out
He had bought a yacht
He was living on it
And learning his skipper ticket
Planning to leave these shores
And tour around other countries
Making stuff with wood
To keep him in money
But that was a while ago
And he is still here
Because as romantic as it sounds
The reality of it eats away your confidence
Until it leaves you feeling hollow and lonely
If you can swallow that and get over it
You are free to set sail and make your adventure
Danny…with all dogness and rugged edges
Had failed to conquer this

Curry’s was of no use to me
And I was struck by an intense bowelic urge
So I headed for the toilets
At the newly revamped McDonalds
As I made my way up the staircase
I could sense somebody right up behind me
As I walked towards the gents door
He was still there one pace back
I passed through the door
And rounded into the only cubicle
As I turned to shut the door
There he was
The man who was right behind me
My brain computer mapped him immediately
The vacant staring eyes
The hawk like face
With sunken shrivelled mouth and missing teeth
A heroin addict
Standing almost in the doorway he said
“Are yer gonna be long?”
How audacious
“I’ve got no idea mate…
…I need a big shit”
He looked to the side of the cubicle and sighed
Probably trying to think of another nearby cubicle
Then he left

Of course I know this situation
Scoring gear is a random affair
You never know where your gonna be
And the addiction develops
So that you can’t wait until you get home to smoke it
Or there also might be somebody at home
Who might want to help you smoke it
And that wouldn’t do
So you would seek out the nearest toilet cubicle
After a while you would develop favoured lavatorys
You would become a water closet connoissuer
Places that you would associate with warmth and happiness
This one looked like it was one of his favourites

I continued home
Stopping just before at the local chemist
I handed them the prescription
Which had a few items on it
Of course including the viagra
For the first time I felt a momentary twinge of discomfort
It occurred to me that these girls could now pass me in the street
And think
There’s that guy with the drooper
If only they knew the whole story
For all they know
I could have lied to the doctor
To gain access to the magical power of the stallion
Come to think of it
These folks know deep details about the local populace

I looked into the dispensing store
And they were having a discussion and looking at me
Then the main guy stepped out carrying a paper bag
He is a tall scouser chemist
He walked up to me and handed me the bag
And sort of lightly ushered me away from the counter
By putting his hand on the back of my shoulder
And then with great indiscretion said
“I’m sorry Mr Dial…we haven’t got any Levitra left…
…I know it’s the weekend and all…
…maybe you should try the chemist up the road”
I grabbed the bag and left
How ridiculous
A first hand example
Of the shifty British attitude to sex

I returned home
And sat down to write this
At one point during
I turned round to look at Mrs Dial
She was looking straight at me
And holding a small white stick in her hand
She said
“What do you think this is?”
It was a real ‘Call my Bluff moment’
What was the object?
There was a buffer of emptiness
Then somewhere deep in recess of my brain
A door opened
And out ran a Numskull from the finance department
Screaming “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!……..”
And then I realised
Mrs Dial was pregnant



Evil
Monday December 15th 2008, 1:13 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


I sit here
In the Tesco cafe
Staring at the great Army Gray blanket in the sky
Feeling useless
My muddled and disjointed thoughts
I’ve just put my card in the machine
And left the money in the slot
Sounds like a metaphor doesn’t it?
Mmmmmmmm
It’s the least of my worries
What did they do to me?
Why can’t I sleep?
Why were all my fellow patients as surprised as I was to be there?
Is it a conspiracy?
They never showed me any proof
They never proved anything
What were they trying to stop me doing?
Was I meant to save the world?
What was I meant to save it from?
Shit music?
Shit literature?
Shit entertainment?
You’d need Atlas just to stop that lot sliding off the shovel
Never mind the rest of it
Just the other day
I stood in the big bay window
And declared to Mrs Dial
“You know dear…there are some great things in this world”
“But mostly it’s shit”
“I’ve nothing but contempt for most of these people who walk past my window”
“How dare they walk past my window”

I sit here with my expensive coffee
And my stolen cake
Yes I still do bad things
Yes I am still a bad man
But like they say in America
Do the math
If my deed is evil -5
And Tesco’s are evil -666
Then -666 minus -5 = -661
A slight improvement
Bad is flexible
We can all do bad
We all have the ability to do bad
And people who are totally good
Are unsettling aren’t they?
They are difficult to be around
Because they are unbalanced
Technically insane
What about God?…the Pious cry
He is all good
Am I saying he’s insane?
Not at all
He balances the books
Just ask Glen Hoddle
Just look at God’s world
Just look at him balancing his books
Just do the fuckin Math
Look at the Yanks and the Limeys
Fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan
They can’t possibly win
Because they are a caring army
If they do anything ruthless
The newspapers scream outrage
Whilst the enemy sharpens it’s ruthless teeth
To stop them you have to equal them
To equal their minus figure

I tapped my spoon on the table
As I recalled that dark night
Crashing through that fence
In the spit and mud and blood
The fury and the venom
My attackers surprised…stunned
At how we had turned the tables on them
And returned their punishment with compound interest
We knew them from a distance
They were evil men
And the city would be much the better without them
And in our fury we decided to kill them
But in a move akin to Buster Keaton being tied to a rail track
Or James Bond strapped to a conveyor
We attempted murder by proxy
Because we weren’t evil enough
We couldn’t finish it
They were regular evil mongering biker racist homophobic bouncer thugs -666
Who mistook us for gays
We were temporary evil by fury and booze -333
And that’s how the figures stacked up
One of them left town
When he recovered
And the city was better off
But nobody thanked us
We were arrested
And whilst left unattended in a Police van
We beat the shit out of each other
Till we looked real bad
And blamed it on the guys we left in the road
Nobody knew of our lustful murderous intentions
Because it was in our minds
Our evil minds
Take Robin Hood
Yeah…how dare I compare myself to this myth and legend
I’m not
But he is marked out as a good man
A hero
He killed loads of blokes
And robbed constantly
He broke the law
Because you can’t fight evil with good
You may be able to influence evil with good
Given enough time
But you can’t fight it
All good men have to go and make a withdrawal from the Bank of Evil
If they want to fight evil
And we all have a balance in that bank…everybody

I finished my stolen cake
And got out my new book
It’s a bestseller…called Blink
I thought I would ease myself back into reading with some non fiction
As since the last six months
I have been unable to concentrate on books
The last ruinous soul destroyer
Being that adventure impostor “Shantaram”
But I found I couldn’t read
I sat back and took a breath
The reason I couldn’t continue was an odd one
About one chapter into this book
I started reading it out loud to myself
After a while I started using an American accent
And two chapters in
I was completely immersed
In a mock documentary
I could see myself on screen
Confidently presenting the show
Interviewing people
Doing different voices
I was on the move
Wandering through a large laboratory
Narrating on my way to the next interviewee
It was pretty slick stuff
I eventually broke down laughing
For some time
Before I gathered myself
And went for a walk
As I tried to get back into it
It just wasn’t any good without the mocumentary

I put the book away
And went to check in my shopping
I paid up and called a cab on the freephone
When the cab arrived
I heard the shout “Dial” from in the cab
I looked into the cab in disbelief
This is the third time I have called a cab from this store
Only three in total…ever
All three times it has been the same driver
400 cabs
0.25% of getting him once
Never mind three times
His name is Bobby
He is nuts
He starts talking about metaphysics
As soon as he gets out of the car
About how nothing is real
Everything is an illusion
The only thing he really owns is his breath
I find it uncomfortable
I enjoy discussing metaphysics
But usually after loosening up over a few beers
When one can toss about a good theory or two
But to be confronted by it suddenly in the street
Is most awkward
So I keep my answers brief
And gently sway the conversation to “Taxi business”
It was heartening to hear that he had had one of his busiest days ever
Surely he won’t be picking me up from there again